


Moving Day Surprise

by Blueroses_23



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is weak for Aziraphale's muted strength, Domestic Fluff, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Love Confessions, Lovesick idiots, M/M, Moving In Together, My First Work in This Fandom, Nipple Play, One Shot, Oral Sex, Please be gentle, Seduction, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), seductive aziraphale, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-24 03:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21331858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueroses_23/pseuds/Blueroses_23
Summary: It's moving day for the husbands, and they're each working hard to get the boxes and other items into the cottage.Aziraphale, feeling a bit more open in this private little sanctuary of theirs, decides to reveal a secret of his to Crowley that he's been keeping since the 18th century.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Aziraphale's Arms
Comments: 18
Kudos: 114





	1. I Want to Show You

“Crowley, dear, would you mind giving me a hand?”

A familiar voice came from the front portion of an unfamiliar abode, the door flung wide open to allow bodies to freely come and go with potted plants and boxes upon boxes of clothing, knick-knacks, and an absurd number of books. It was Moving Day, and their new cottage in the South Downs was gradually filling with the items that would soon make the empty house feel like a home. Armageddon’t had passed them by, the tattered threads of reality had woven back together into a stable tapestry once again, and a certain angel and demon had decided that a quiet life together was the most rational way to celebrate. Their cottage was nestled near the base of the chalky mountains and a twenty-minute drive from the beach and the coastal town that sprawled along it. (It was an ideal location--a miracle, really, that the house had been available when they were in the market to buy.)

At the moment, Crowley had slumped dramatically across the loveseat, one leg draped across the back, to rest after hauling a hefty potted plant into the large back room that would become the house library. His hair, grown down to his shoulders now, was held out of his face by a blue snakeskin bandanna, and sweat and dust was easy to see on the dark grey shirt and black joggings pants he wore. Oof, he was going to be sore tomorrow. Why in Heaven’s name hadn’t they just hired a moving company? It wasn’t like either of them were hurting for money.

Having his name called drew him from his grumbling thoughts. His angel needed help, and he was always eager to provide it. Kicking his leg up and swinging into a standing position, Crowley swept a few red wisps from his face and sauntered out into the large foyer… and stopped short. Aziraphale was there, easily carrying two large boxes marked “library” that probably weighed twenty-five pounds each, but that wasn’t what had gotten the demon’s attention. In the fifteen minutes that Crowley had been resting, the angel had shed his coat and vest and was only wearing his cream-colored button-down shirt and tartan suspenders with his usual high-waisted trousers and two-toned dress shoes. Even more surprising was the fact that his shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow in a rare display of skin.

“Ah, there you are. Would you mind getting that box out there on the porch? I do believe it’s the last one, and then we can take a proper break.”

Crowley only heard half of what was said; he was fixated on those bare forearms, flexed softly as they held those heavy boxes steady. Aziraphale was soft in the way that a sumo wrestler was soft, and sometimes it was easy to forget that. Being reminded of it sent a little thrill down his spine. 

_Focus, you dunce, he’s asking you to help him._

“Eh… uh… boxes. Right. Not a problem, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled, and Crowley still wasn’t over the way that smile could light up the room and make his heart flutter.

“Thank you, dear.”

With that, the angel stepped forward and navigated his way down the hallway towards the library, and the demon shook his head briefly and went outside to fetch the final box. It wasn’t that big at all, he noticed with a small grin, and barely weighed five pounds. Cheeky bastard. He put the box under his arm and balanced it on his hip, checked around one last time for anything that might’ve been left outside, and then stepped back in and shut the door. Sliding the deadbolt into place, he felt a surge of… something wash over him. Anxiety. Fear. This was something new, a threshold the two of them had never crossed before in all their centuries of friendship. (They’d just barely managed to articulate how they felt about each other a few weeks ago, on the night before their trials. For a solid hour, Crowley had been unable to stop clinging to Aziraphale and babbling and sobbing in relief that the angel had not, in fact, been burned to a crisp along with the bookshop, while Aziraphale had blinked back his own tears and done his best to offer comfort.) Living together after so much time spent carefully avoiding each other and watching his words was… terrifying. And exciting. And, in the deepest parts of his heart, wonderfully warm and fulfilling. It was what he’d always wanted, and against all odds, he had it in his hands. So everything would be fine… right? Sighing, Crowley stopped staring at the doorknob and went to bring the box into the library. At least the move-in part was done; unpacking would be its own ordeal, but at least they could take their time with that. 

“_Someone_ thinks he’s funny, carryin’ in the big boxes and asking me to ‘help’ with this-”

For the second time today, Crowley stopped short. Aziraphale had taken his outfit a step further, in that more of it was coming off. His bow-tie, usually so neat, was undone, and the ribbon hung carelessly around his neck; his suspenders were off his shoulders and hanging around his hips like two vines. Perhaps the most interesting change was his shirt: it was popped open down to the breastbone, showing a glimpse of peach skin dusted with snow-white curls. For Crowley, showing this amount of skin was just another day ending in Y. For Aziraphale, it was borderline pornographic.

“--uh… with this… this box… that a four-year-old human could carry...”

Blue-green eyes were watching him intently as the angel leaned on a nearby bookshelf, and he swallowed. 

“.... feeling a bit hot, angel?”

One corner of Aziraphale’s mouth quirked up.

“Just so, my dear. It’s very sweaty work, you know, packing and wrapping and lugging about _all_ those boxes and _all_ that furniture to bring them to our new place.”

Our new place, he said. It _was_ their place, wasn’t it? Theirs. Crowley felt a small glow in his chest, and he might’ve been able to dwell on it more if it wasn’t for his rapid heartbeat. What the Heaven was happening right now? Something had shifted in the angel’s energy, and he was struggling to figure out what. Rolled-up sleeves. Open shirt. Bare skin. He wanted to rub his face in that chest hair. He felt like Aziraphale knew that, too. That minx.

“I… nnnyeah, I feel the same way, angel. It was pretty tough work, but we--we got it done in the end, right? Now we can take a proper break, like you said, and, er, enjoy the place.”

“Yes, we can. This is our home now, Crowley. Do you understand what that means?”

“Er… what it means? Well… well, i’means that we’re livin’ together now. Your stuff touchin’ my stuff an’ all that.”

Aziraphale’s eyes crinkled in a smile. 

“You’re right. And since we live together now, don’t you think we should get more comfortable around each other? We’ll be running into each other every day now, not just every few years or centuries. We’ll be sharing the same spaces, the same dishes, the same books, the same… the same bedroom.”

Bedroom. Right. There were two full-size beds in that bedroom, one for each of them, but the fact that they’d be sleeping in the same area was still there. Crowley nodded a bit, unsure of where the angel was going with this. 

“We’ll be seeing each other with rumpled pajamas, and messy bed hair, and wrinkled clothes, and every other ordinary thing that is far from glamorous. We’ll be… seeing new things about each other, secret things that neither of us have shown before that we were.. maybe afraid to.”

Uneasiness flickered across the angel’s face like a cloud passing over the sun. So he’d been musing over those things as well, had he? Crowley felt a little better knowing he wasn’t alone in his anxious brooding.

“S’all right, angel,” he said quietly. “None of your secrets would change how I feel about you.”

That reply seemed to please Aziraphale, and there was a sparkle in his eye now.

“Well, thank you. But some of my secrets, I would be glad to share with you. I thought perhaps today, to celebrate this occasion, I could share a small one with you.”

Crowley blinked, serpentine eyes wide, and he shifted the box on his hip.

_Is it that your arms can lift impressive weights like it’s nothing? Or that your chest hair looks like it would be soft as lamb’s wool? Because I figured those secrets out pretty fast, and they’re very distracting._

“And what sssecret would that be?” 

“I’ll tell you in a moment. But first, my dear, I need you to put that box down and come kiss me.”


	2. I Want to Hold You in My Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second and final chapter, in which Aziraphale and Crowley both decide to share a secret now that they've officially finished moving into their South Downs cottage.

_“I need you to put that box down and come kiss me.”_

Kiss me, the angel had said, his tone as pleasant and sweet as if he’d merely asked for more tea. Kiss me, he said, while partially undressed and leaning coquettishly on that bookshelf with an expectant look on his face. It was… unexpectedly bold, and it sent a ripple of attraction across Crowley’s skin that made his scalp and fingertips tingle. Aziraphale wasn’t usually one for forward gestures; his methods were usually more subtle, his flirtations coy. This time, in the peaceful privacy of their new home, the angel had practically served himself up like a slice of cake, and Crowley would be damned if he didn’t at least TRY to take a bite.

“Right.”

The box on his hip ended up somewhere on the floor as the demon forgot about everything that wasn’t Aziraphale and crossed the few feet in between them until they stood barely an inch apart. Crowley’s arms had lifted and his hands were resting on the shelves on either side of the angel’s blonde head, forming a cage. There, he hesitated. This was their first memory in the new cottage, and he just knew he was going to cock it up somehow. He glanced down at that rosy cupid’s bow of a mouth and swallowed… oh, lord, how he _wanted_ it. He wanted to eat this beautiful creature whole, starting from the lips, but thousands of years of watching his step around Aziraphale warned him that he was, once again, going too fast.

“Angel,” he mumbled. “You sure it’s okay?”

“I asked for it, didn’t I?”

The reply was spoken softly, gently, as if he was soothing a nervous dog.

“Please kiss me, my dear, as much as you want.” 

And so he did. Tentatively at first, just a chaste brush of lips, a test run. Nothing happened--no pulling away, no uneasy looks, no scolding words. If anything, Aziraphale was beaming. The second time lasted longer, and Crowley felt hands on his waist draw him in closer. It somewhat reminded him of their brief spat in Tadfield Manor, when he’d lost his composure for a moment and then had to spend weeks shaking off the memory of the angel’s body against his own (and also what a complete jackass he’d been to respond so harshly to a bloody compliment). How nice it would’ve been if this had happened instead! But at that point, they hadn’t been ready for this. Now? Now was different. Now, maybe they were. 

He leaned back in, and this kiss was not nearly as chaste. In a matter of seconds, their mouths were open and their tongues were tangled together. Aziraphale’s hands had lifted off his waist and were clinging to the back of his shirt. Heat rippled up Crowley’s spine and he automatically leaned forward so the entire front halves of their torsos were pressed firmly together. Ahh… so soft. Nothing in Heaven or Hell was ever this soft.

Except for… Crowley frowned slightly. Something kept nudging at him in places that did not usually nudge. Something rather distinctly _not_ soft. He pulled back a bit and looked down between them. Was it just a folded wrinkle in the shirt? A button, perhaps?

“Angel, d’you have something in your shirt pocket? It’s pokin’ at my chest.”

Rather than confusion, there was knowing look on Aziraphale’s face.

“I do. Or rather, underneath my shirt,” he crooned. “Why don’t you open it up and take a look?”

Undress him further? Heaven, yes. Licking his lips briefly, the demon set to work undoing the rest of the buttons and pushing the crisp fabric aside, revealing more skin and and a better view of that rounded stomach he loved so much... and one thing more. Well, two.

Each of the angel’s nipples were pert and pink as young raspberries, and on each raspberry was a glint of gold: a hybridized barbell and ring piercing with a tiny feathered wing on each side. A symbol of both his celestial status and his hedonistic greed. Crowley’s brain entirely ceased to function for a full ten seconds as he gawked at the jewelry, his mouth dry. Aziraphale, having flushed just around the cheekbones, had to speak again to reboot him.

“This is the little secret I wanted to show you, dear. What do you think?”

It was decadent. It was obscene. It was perfect. 

“How,” Crowley managed to croak. “How long?”

“Early 18th century, I believe? Victorian era.”

“That long?! And you never- I never- I-...”

He’d never even guessed. Aziraphale constantly wore so many layers of clothing that mapping out the topography beneath them was next to impossible. The thought that these dainty little piercings had been hiding right under his nose the whole time sent a shot of heat right into Crowley’s groin. For two hundred years, every time they had met, the angel had been quietly enjoying the brush of the fabric against them. He didn’t know how Aziraphale managed to keep himself composed while wearing these; Crowley would be squirming 24/7 with the desire to play with them.

“Do you,” Aziraphale murmured, sounding a bit uncertain now. “Do you not like them?” 

“Do I- no- I mean, yessss- I mean…” 

Shit, he was ruining it. Think fast. He took a half-step back and grasped Aziraphale’s hand, deliberately placing it across his crotch. The angel made a small “oh” sound of surprise when he felt the raging erection tented in those jogging pants.

“What I mean to say,” the demon rasped. “Is that just the sight of them has done _this_ to me, you saucy little tart.” 

Aziraphale grinned then, the deviant little sparkle returning to his eyes. He took both of Crowley’s hands in his own, placing the palms over each nipple and holding them there. The chilled metal pieces warmed quickly from their body heat, and Crowley reflexively gripped the meat of the angel’s chest.

“I would like it very much,” he heard the angel breathe. “If you got more acquainted with them.”

There was no power above or below that could’ve stopped Crowley from doing just that. His mouth latched onto the right nub, and his left hand tilted so the thumb could tweak the other. The metal didn’t taste that great, but the resulting squeak from Aziraphale was delicious. He rolled his tongue over the blunt tips of the wings, twisting lightly. Then he switched to the other piercing, and then back again, and kept doing that until the angel was flushed and squirming and whispering _oh my word_ like a prayer. A brief glance downward told him that he wasn’t the only one with a tent in his pants now.

“Angel,” he murmured, cupping his partner’s groin with his palm. “Can I… here?”

“If you don’t do _something_ right this minute, I will lose my mind.”

Laughing softly, Crowley knelt down, opened the trousers, and noted with great delight how the angel’s cock practically lunged out at him. Did piercings really make one’s nipples that sensitive? Human bodies were such curious things. Opening his mouth, he licked the shaft a few times to lubricate it, and then extended his tongue until it curled around twice. Aziraphale was looking down at him in astonishment.

“I didn’t know you could do that! You never--ahn!”

The rest of the sentence was cut off when Crowley flexed his tongue and gave him a firm squeeze, and then slid his head forward until the angel was fully sheathed inside his mouth and throat. This technique was one of his own little secrets, and one of the few things he enjoyed about his snake features. He felt strong fingers tear the blue bandanna from his head and then grip his hair, the body quaking.

“Ohhhh, _fuck_.”

A jolt when down Crowley’s spine when the angel actually swore, and it made his entire lower region throb with want. One hand slipped into his pants and started stroking, just to ease the ache, while he squeezed with his tongue again and began to bob his head slowly. The hands in his hair had other ideas, though, and encouraged him to move faster. He was happy to oblige, and soon the room was full of lewd, wet noises as he desperately tried to balance pleasuring Aziraphale while also tending to his own needs. It wasn’t long before he felt the familiar pressure in his lower belly that meant an orgasm wasn’t far off. The frantic gasping and moaning above him, along with the tightening grip on his hair, told him that his partner was feeling something similar.

“Oh, my dear, my dearest, _oh please_-!” 

A shudder went through both of them and Crowley’s throat constricted as climax rushed over him and several strings of seed painted the inside of his joggers. Half a second later, Aziraphale bent forward with a loud, keening cry and came, nails digging into the demon’s scalp. Crowley swallowed everything without a second thought. The salty-sweet taste on his tongue and the musk filling his nose were intoxicating. Gradually, the grasp on his head relaxed and he could pull away, sitting back on his heels. He looked up at his angel, a hazy, satisfied expression on his face as saliva dripped down his chin and neck. Aziraphale was looking down at him with awe before bending down to tenderly hold his jaw and kiss him again, fluids and all.

“That was a secret of _yours_, I assume?”

Crowley’s mouth turned up in a grin. 

“Fair’s fair.”

“You are absolutely impossible, my dear. But still… thank you for sharing it with me.”

“Anytime you like, angel.”

Aziraphale glanced down and saw the damp area on Crowley’s crotch, and then chuckled.

“Oh, dear, we've made quite a mess. Perhaps now would be a good time for a bath. I’ll go start it, shall I?”

Crowley couldn’t agree more, given the sticky state of his pants. Fixing his trousers, Aziraphale sighed happily and then went to start the water, briefly caressing that messy red hair with utmost affection as he passed by. Crowley watched the angel leave, and then stood up on wobbly legs and rotated his jaw a few times. 

So. Aziraphale had pierced nipples. He felt honored to be trusted with this secret. Not all of their shared secrets would be that much fun, he knew. But that was a thought for another time.

“Crowley,” called his angel from the other room. “The bath is ready.”

“Coming!”

_The next chapter of your life has started, old chap, and the angel you love is beside you. Hope for the best, brace yourself for the worst, and by some miracle, you might actually be happy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This half was inspired by my own headcanon and this art of mine: https://brstudios.tumblr.com/post/188457748595/the-obligatory-followup-to-this-halloween-piece
> 
> (And also by the fact that snakes can dislocate their jaws and have no gag reflex.)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a personal headcanon of mine and this fanart of Aziraphale looking like a whole-ass meal: https://twitter.com/Gomen_Batherik/status/1182131824916459521
> 
> Second and final chapter coming in the next couple of days!


End file.
